


Heartbreak ~ Aftermath

by DeaInTheMachina



Series: Fayde Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon 4ge Day, F/M, Solavellan Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 07:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeaInTheMachina/pseuds/DeaInTheMachina
Summary: I decided to write the aftermath of my personal headcanon for how my Inquisitor reacts to Solas breaking up with her.





	Heartbreak ~ Aftermath

            “I don’t understand.” Shock and confusion washed over her features in equal measure as Fadye looked at the elven mage.

             “I’m sorry. I should not have distracted you from your duty. It won’t happen again.” Solas backed a few steps away apologetically, trying to mask the regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

             “But, Solas, I love you!” She reached for him but he pulled further away and shook his head. “Solas, please.” As he turned his back on her and walked away, the dream faded into nothing, leaving her alone with her sorrow. She felt the tug of ghosts whispering in the darkness, echoes of her ancestors urging her to endure. “No. No, I can’t. Mamae” Fayde sobbed. “Mamae, you were wrong! Love is painful. So painful. Why doesn’t he want me anymore?” She clutched a small, blue crystal shaped like a wolf to her chest and curled into a ball. “I don’t understand.”

             Fayde woke slowly. Her mouth was woolen, her head was pounding, and it felt as though someone were laying on top of her. She opened one blue-green eye to find Sera snuggling her stomach, mumbling something about yarn and a ruler in her sleep. Dorian was sprawled out next to Fayde, somehow still managing to look like the peacock of Tevinter, and Josie was lying in a heap with Leliana and Cassandra on the other end of the bed. _What happened?_ She carefully rolled over and untangled herself, sliding to the floor to quietly crawl towards a pedestal near her dresser. Getting to her feet was a challenge as the room threatened to spin, but she grabbed onto the smooth, wooden top and hoisted herself into a standing position.

             She caught her reflection in the mirror as she poured water into a dark bowl. Fayde was paler than usual, with noticeable tearstains running down both cheeks, and her blue eyes were a little dim from the festivities. She frowned: her vallaslin was gone. _What happened last night?_ Fuzzy bits and pieces came back as she washed her face and tried to comb the knots out of her long, black hair. There had been wine, lots and lots of wine, as evidenced by the empty bottles littering her floor, and a great deal of chocolate. A deck of cards and several handfuls of silver coins had rained down over her bed and floor in an epic baptism of Wicked Grace. She vaguely recalled the lot of them trying to sneak out of Skyhold to taunt Corypheus and his remaining templars. They were intent on yelling “fight us” at the top of their lungs and Sera thought it’d be funny to moon them, but Bull was guarding the door and put a stop to their master plan. _But why did we start up here in the first place?_

             It hit her like a rolling wave in the ocean, the kind that knocks you flat before sucking you under. The meager bit of energy she’d mustered fled, and Fayde dropped to her knees. “Vhenan” he had called her. “Ar lath ma vhenan.” She had never opened up to anyone the way she opened up to Solas, and he said he felt the same. The little gestures, the sweet but hesitant touches, the way he flirted, and even the way he said her name with such reverence, all indicated that he was as deeply taken with her. Yet just last night he casually tossed her heart aside. Did she misjudge? Did she push too hard? _Was it even last night?_ Fayde seemed to recall that time passed strangely while they indulged; it always seemed to be night no matter how long they carried on.

          Leliana was the first to come check on her, probably because the spymaster seemed to know everything the moment it happened. Then Sera appeared with a few boxes of chocolates she filched from the pantry and a bottle of some unknown, clear liquor. And then came Dorian, who wisely asked his lover to guard the door lest any drunken shenanigans be attempted. Cassandra and Josie were the last ones to come up. Vivienne wasn’t able to be there, but she sent along an array of indulgences for nursing a broken heart. Fayde realized suddenly that her pity party had gone on for a few days. Even still, she doubted that she could face him. All she wanted was a straight answer, to know why, but he wouldn’t give it to her. Solas wasn’t interested in discussing things at all, and assumed a very business-like manner as soon as she tried to confront him. Fayde had neither the energy nor the patience to deal with Corypheus right now. If the ancient darkspawn knew what was good for him, he’d lay low for a while.

           “Ohhh,” groaned Dorian. “What is that awful thing shining outside?”

           “I think it’s the sun,” Fayde said, voice scratchy from thirst.

           “Well, I need it to go away. Maker, my head hurts.”

           “Mine, too.” Josie sat up, rubbing her eyes. It was unusual for anyone to see the ambassador in such disarray: her hair stuck out in odd places, and her frilly sleep shirt hung off of one shoulder.

           “I don’t think I’ve partied like that since I was with the Hero of Fereldan. Too bad we can’t arrange the ‘disappearance’ of the sun,” Leliana added with a look of disgust as she shielded her eyes.

           “Maker, what—what happened?” Cassandra rolled over and sat up slowly, taking in the cards, coins, and bottles strewn about the floor.

           “I’d say we had a proper sleep over,” Dorian grinned weakly.

           “Agreed.” Leliana stretched and straightened her bedclothes, which were far more girlish than anyone expected, with little ribbons placed here and there on the satin fabric.

           “Now, about that sun.” Fayde’s eyes glowed bright blue as she pulled at the currents in the air outside to stir up a bit of cloud cover. “That’s better.”

           “Oh, thank you.” Cassandra rubbed at her temples. “Sometimes magic can be a blessing. I think, however much fun I vaguely remember that being, we have work to do. Otherwise, people will begin to grow suspicious of our absence.”

           “It is an unfortunate truth,” Josie said unhappily. “I could stay up here and do that all over again though. Perhaps we could arrange time to unwind a little more frequently; not all of us are able to relieve our stress with violence.”

           “Huh? Whus happ’nin?” A groggy Sera sat up and looked around the room. “Wow, we really had a good time, yea?”

           “Yes, and now it’s time to –“

           “I know, I know,” Sera interrupted Cassandra. “It’s time for us to figure out a way to deal with Coryphillus from that Well-thingy our leader so _idiotically_ drank. You should’ve just let Morrigan have it.”

           “Right.” Fayde had forgotten about the Well, and realized it was mostly likely the source of the voices in her dream. “Too late for that. I suppose this means I have a lot to get done today. Thank you, I appreciate you all coming to…to,” she trailed off.

           “We’re your friends, darling, of course we weren’t going to let you be alone after that.” Dorian got up and walked over to offer his hand. “When you’re down, we’ll pick you up.”

           “Precisely,” Cassandra added with a confident nod and smile. “Although, for the life of me, I can’t understand why. I thought everything was going well with you two. I half expected to hear Varric was offering to write your wedding invitations and vows.”

           “No. Just, no,” Josie said shaking her head. “Varric may be a wonderful storyteller, but wedding details like that are best left to an individual who knows something about organizing such events. Naturally, I would have called in a favor with a calligrapher I know back home. He is truly a master with ink and vellum. As for the vows, I’m sure the couple would have preferred to write their own.”

           “Regardless, I think we’re all more than a little curious at this turn of events,” Leliana added.

           “Please, tell me we didn’t slip into another time again,” Dorian cringed. “That’s about how much sense this whole thing makes.”

           “Ugh. You people and your weird magic—whatever you want to call ‘em.” Sera rolled her eyes.

           “So sorry for being born a mage.”

           “Pbbt,” Sera replied.

           “Anyway,” Josie interjected, “How are you feeling, Fayde? You’ve been pretty quiet.”

           “I’m not sure. I—I don’t think I can face him yet. How can I? He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to talk about it.” She looked down at the chantry rug covering her floor, for once not feeling the urge to set it aflame.

           “And right after,” Cassandra stopped herself. She felt bad for her friend, they all did. They were too slow to react and now the Lavellan clan was gone; the Inquisition was the only family left to Fayde. “Whatever. We don’t need any men to help us beat an ancient darkspawn magister. If you want something done right, you get a woman to do it!”

           “I beg your pardon?!”

           “Oh, please, Dorian, wipe that pout off your face before you get wrinkles; you know you don’t count.” Cassandra rolled her eyes.

           “Well, I’m glad to hear it confirmed, regardless. Although, I really wouldn’t mind letting Bull come along.”

           “Word is, you wouldn’t mind letting Iron Bull do a _lot_ of things,” Leliana teased.

           “I swear, the words ‘subtle’ and ‘discreet’ are not in his vocabulary.”

           “True enough. ‘Go big or go home’ _is_ pretty much his motto, after all.” The spymaster turned her attention back to Fayde. “You’re looking a bit drained. Why don’t you take your time getting ready? Our meetings can wait a little longer, no? It is good for you to take the time to collect yourself, and then you can join us when you are ready.”

           “You’re right. Thank you, everyone, I really do appreciate it.” Slowly, they all filed out, reluctant to leave but knowing the end of the world wouldn’t wait until they were ready for it. Fayde rubbed a hand over her face and moved about the room, picking up the remains of the past few days. In her mind, she kept turning over her conversation with Solas. _There must be something I missed; no one does a complete about face without reason. Was it something I said? Is it the way I look without my vallaslin? But he told me I was beautiful. He called me his vhenan. What did I do wrong?_ Room clean, she sank into a tub of hot water and tried not to cry, but the weight of losing her clan and her love pushed down on her will until it cracked.

           The first time they flirted, Solas said he imagined the sight of her focus being dominated would be fascinating. He was intelligent, quick-witted, and smooth; that should have been her signal to stay away, but something about the enigmatic mage was irresistible. _Here I am, focus dominated. Thank you ever so much_. Fayde mumbled some unkind words under her breath in elven as fresh tears started running down her face and scrubbed herself clean. Removing three days of wine, chocolate, and gambling left the pallor of pain more obvious. She pulled on a clean pair of leather breeches and a black cotton shirt, which she cinched tight with a black and blue brocade bodice Josie picked up for her in Val Royeaux. Lastly, she slipped her long legs into a pair of tall, black boots, the ones with the heel that made a satisfying sharp sound as she walked across stone. She needed every piece of faux confidence she could find. Once more standing at the pedestal, she took a moment to organize her thoughts before opening her eyes.

           Fayde Lavellan: herald of a dead prophet, fearless leader of the Inquisition, Dalish mage, the last of her clan, and now she could add broken-hearted to her growing list of epithets. She looked hard at herself in the mirror, examining each detail of her reflection. Her blue-green eyes didn't have their usual mischievous twinkle and she looked tired, worn down. With her vallaslin gone, her face was a stranger. No more than a week had passed since she received the news of her clan's destruction, and now the man she loved chose to pull away when she needed him most. Fayde even allowed him take away one of the last links to her family, asked him to take it, and now she felt cut off and alone. Who was she really without her clan, her love, or the Inquisition?

          Carefully, she painted her naked face: black liner, smoke-grey lids, and deep plum lips. It made her pale skin look brighter, even if it couldn't completely hide her exhaustion. Her mother was born and raised in a Rivaini seaside city, but fell in love with a wild elf and joined his nomadic kin. Even though she was raised Dalish, Fayde treasured her mother’s stories about the place she came from, and fell in love with the gypsy style. She swapped a simple hoop near the tip of one ear for a blue gem that dangled playfully from a silver cuff. Several more hoops adorned her elven ears, matching the series of silver bangles that clinked on her wrists. She braided her damp, midnight hair so it trailed over one shoulder, and tied an aqua ribbon around the end. A dragon made of swirling, black lines scowled around the braid, prepared to defend his mistress.

          Fayde quickly tucked a small pendant under her shirt so she wouldn’t have to see it. Part of her wanted to throw the thing away, especially when the light blue crystal peeked out between the lacing at the very top of her shirt. The amulet was a gift turned painful reminder. She ignored the urge to smash the tiny wolf as she secured a scarf around her hips to match the ribbon. Fayde put on her most confident smirk. No one would question the puffiness beneath her kohl-lined eyes or the lack of enthusiasm as she went about her day. And when this was over, when her obligation to save Thedas was done, she would have the truth from him, no matter how painful. Deceptively calm, she sauntered down the stairs to find her advisors and plan her next move against Corypheus. “I’ll show Solas a ‘cutting edge’,” she growled quietly.


End file.
